Page 38 of Hank and Elsie
Four weeksafter Elsie started working for Miss Taylor, the Sunday of her family’s visit finally arrived, and she couldn’t wait to see them. All dressed up for church in the pink outfit that was still too tight around the waist—although she’d let out the seams two inches to their fullest extent—she waited impatiently for her employer to finish getting ready.
She had so much to tell and show them—all Miss Taylor had taught her, the wedding dress they’d started designing for Maggie Baxter, Banker Livingston’s fiancé, how she’d dinedat the fancy Bellaire-Norton mansion and made a new friend in Felicity Woodbury, who worked at the hotel. Dr. Angus’s courtship of Miss Taylor, her ever-growing list of French words for Mary. And, best of all, her friendship with Hank Canfield.
So many experiences packed into such a short time.
Her thoughts lingered on Hank, and she gave a little bounce, thinking about how much she enjoyed the man’s company. They’d had another outing to Hank’s home for a Sunday picnic, joined by Torin and Jewel. Twice, Hank had ridden to town midweek and coaxed Miss Taylor into letting Elsie take an hour off work, so the two could go to Sugarplum Dreams for hot chocolate,petit fours, and interesting conversation.
A warning skittered across Elsie’s mind, pulling her feet into a more decorous pace.I can’t tell them about Hank. They’ll have thoughts of us marrying.
As they left the Gordon building, Elsie strolled alongside Miss Taylor, conscious of the need to repress her bouncy spirits and glide like a swan.I’ll see my family soon enough.
But she must not have been very successful, for her employer cast her an amused glance. “I can tell you’re excited to see your family.”
“Oh, Miss Constance, I’m trying so hard not to bounce.”
The smile turned into a laugh. “And you’re succeeding. But happiness is radiating from you, Elsie. I can tell from your expression and energy.”
Elsie pulled her expression into a frown, trying to show a more solemn Sunday morning face.
Still smiling, Miss Taylor shook her head. “Elsie, just be your special, irrepressible self. The Bible does tell us to ‘make a joyful noise unto the Lord,’” she quoted Psalm ninety-eight. “And to ‘fill your heart with gladness,’” she added another snippet.
“Well,” Elsie sighed and slowed her pace a bit. “I’m trying to believe you about my energy, Miss Constance. Really, I am. ButI’m not sure Ma and Pa will agree, and I don’t want to start off our time together with Ma scolding me or giving me thatbehave yourselflook she’s so good at.”
Miss Taylor chuckled. “I think by necessity,allmothers are good at thatbehave yourselflook. Aunts, too.”
By this time, they’d walked close enough to the church crowd to make out individuals, and Elsie searched for her family but didn’t see them waiting. She squinted down the street, hoping to see them, but their familiar figures weren’t in sight.That’s odd. They’re always early.
They paused, watching the flow of people swirl around them to greet the ministers and their wives and then stream into the church. A breeze wafted the scent of Miss Taylor’s rose perfume Elsie’s way and blew a tendril of hair across her face. She absentmindedly tucked the strand behind her ear.
They waited for what seemed like an interminable while but was, in reality, probably only fifteen minutes. From time to time, a woman stopped to tell Miss Taylor she’d be going to the shop after the service.
Normally, Elsie would engage in the conversations. But today, she was too distracted by watching for her family. There was no ordinary reason they shouldn’t be here. The weather was fine, the dirt roads firm.I hope no one’s sick.Guilt pricked, remembering the few times Ma was ill and Elsie took over caring for their family.What if they need me, and I’m not there?
She even missed Hank ambling in her direction until he was about ten feet away. His grin and tip of his hat to her barely brought forth an answering smile.
Hank paused, as if to talk, and then Mrs. Norton addressed him, and he stopped to give her his attention. Enough people moved between them, so with a wry smile her way, he went with the flow into the church.
The church bell rang, making Elsie’s stomach tighten.Where are they?
Miss Taylor tapped Elsie’s arm. “I’ll go inside and save you a space. You can either sit with me or with your family, if they come.”
Both sets of ministers and their wives left their positions and walked up the stairs and into the church. The lingering members of the congregation trailed after.
Knowing she couldn’t delay any longer and, with no one around to see, Elsie tossed aside ladylike conventions, gathered her skirts and raced to the stairs, and up the steps. Only before entering, did she lower her skirts and smooth to a sedate pace, trying to regulate her breathing as much as the hellish corset allowed.
The music of the first hymn started, and the voices of the congregation swelled with song.
After walking up the aisle, with one final glance behind her, Elsie slipped into the space next to Miss Taylor, trying to stifle her uneasiness.
Ma promised they’d be here.More possible reasons for their absence raced through her mind, from the positive—the harvest had ripened early, to the worst imaginable—a fire destroying their farm or a plague wiping out her whole family.
She couldn’t bear the thought, so she wrenched her mind away from catastrophes and scolded herself into better thinking.Probably just relatively minor problems. Maybe the wagon wheel broke or one of the horses went lame. Or merely, one of the creeks they had to cross had risen too high.The last idea seemed improbable—too late in the year for snowmelt, and no storms had blown in during the last week. She tried to make herself stop imagining the worst and, instead, sent up a prayer for their safety. The act of praying eased her anxiousness a bit.
All through the service, Elsie tried to hide her disappointment about her family not being at church and to pay attention to Reverend Joshua’s sermon on the Beatitude,Blessed are the meek….Certainly, trying to be meek was an attitude she strove for, but, according to her parents, didn’t always succeed. Even singing her favorite hymn, “Lift High the Cross,” didn’t raise her dragging spirits.
During the hymn, Miss Taylor gave her a concerned sideways glance, no doubt guessing from the lack of her usual volume how worried Elsie was.
Once the service ended, Elsie rose and turned to scan the congregation, her fears hitting harder when she didn’t see the Baileys among the press of people.
